


Ribbon

by MalsWords



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Asphyxiation Kink, Bro is abusive and a fucking ass, Choking, Humiliation, Incest, M/M, One Shot, Shame, Stridercest - Freeform, erotic asphyxiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 13:44:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8669938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalsWords/pseuds/MalsWords
Summary: I wrote this years ago and just found it, and by now I have no shame and it's the best choking I've written. I still ship this even years later holy shit. Also this is so abusive oh my dear god. I don't think there's a good feel in here.--Like usual, he appears out of nowhere. Dave doesn’t even realise he should be on guard until it’s too late. One minute Dave was washing the plate he'd used for dinner in the sink (bro kept fireworks in the dishwasher, so there was that), and the next firm fingers had ghosted over his neck.





	

Dave froze. His hands holding the dish trembled slightly as the warmth of Bro's chest pressed against his back, one of Bro's knees lodging itself firmly between Dave's thighs, effectively pinning him to the counter. With a breath that could have potentially turned into a shudder if Dave hadn't tried so hard to hold back, he put the plate on the drying rack.

He tried not to shiver as Bro's gloved hand slid across his stomach, bunching Dave's shirt as it crawled up. The tiniest pressure radiated from Bro's fingertips as he pushed Dave against him, trapping Dave's smaller frame between his chest and the arm wrapped around his side. Bro's other hand rested on the edge of the counter, pressing them both against it.

 For a fleeting moment Dave was aware of his brother's crotch up against his ass, then more pressing matters took over his thought process as he realized where the hand on his chest was heading.

 _No no no, please bro no anything but there_ , he wanted to plead, _jerk me off and fuck me silly but please /please/..._

Instead, Dave managed a strangled sound of discomfort as Bro's hand found his throat - not applying pressure, just resting there. Waiting.

And he didn't want this, didn't want his brother to know, even thought he already knew, he had to know and his hands were creeping higher and now all he could feel was how his bro was going to grab him, choke him, pin him down and Dave would struggle and--

The damage was done. Dave felt the heat simultaneously pool low in his stomach as the flush rose to his face, burning his ears and forcing him to swallow. His blood was rushing lower, his growing hard-on pressing uncomfortably against the cupboard door through his jeans.

Bro was breathing on his neck, his thumb working tiny circles around Dave's jugular. Dave felt him smile against his ear, his lips brushing his lobe slightly as he spoke.

"You sure are a kinky little motherfucker, aren't you?" He purred, his fingers tightening slightly.

Dave swallowed the lump in his throat but refused to give Bro the satisfaction of a reply. Instead he gripped the ledge of the counter, struggling to keep his breathing level.

Bro applied more pressure, and Dave felt the anxiety curl through his chest as he let out a low, choked groan, involuntarily pressing back against his brother's chest. Bro's hands were huge, his calluses rough, the leather of his gloves worn smooth at the palms but rough and fraying at his fingers.

"I've seen you do it, Dave. Is this what you like?" Bro hissed in his ear, all velvet and seduction. Dave felt the heat of shame join his arousal in his face, his eyes pricking hot behind his shades. There was no way he was letting himself cry in front of Bro. There was no way.

"Is this what gets you off?"

The grip around his neck tightened suddenly, and Dave simultaneously saw stars and felt himself buck forward against the counter, the resulting pressure causing a long, reedy moan to worm its way from his mouth. Behind him Bro hissed and let up on the pressure, though his hand didn't leave Dave's neck.

Dave slumped slightly at the pressure being lifted, his erection aching at the intensity of how much this was getting him off. He felt sick - he knew he should be fighting it better, but he couldn't. This was his fetish and he couldn't stop his body from reacting to it with sheer force of will.

"Is this better than the ribbon, Dave?" Bro tries next, and oh god _how did he know_. Rose had left a hair band at their house once, and after trying to choke himself out while getting off proved difficult, tying the ribbon around his neck and tightening it with one hand while pumping himself with the other was much, much more effective.

"You're one creepy bastard, Bro." Dave hissed, trying his best to keep the fear and shame out of his voice, "Watching your little brother get himself off - that's all kinds of wrong."

You are Dave Strider, and you are a disgusting freak with a sick fetish.

Bro doesn't respond immediately, and it sinks in just how wrong he really is when you feel him rut against you slightly as his hand tightens around your throat again, and wow he's really hard and huge and he's whispering in your ear but you can't hear him because you can't breathe and everything is white and you're grinding against the counter.

When you do find your voice you want to tell him to stop, to get off you, to get away and never touch you again, but instead horror grips you as you moan like a whore.

 "M-more! Oh fuck, Nnggh!" you hear yourself hiss, and to your surprise he complies, his hand that was against the counter finding its way between your dick and the cupboard. You feel him shudder as he palms you through your jeans, and no, that's not what you meant. Despite the attention he's giving your cock, it's not enough - it'll never be enough and you know it. You don't even have time to feel sick.

"N-no not there—Ghhh... fuck _Bro_!" You all but cry, and you can almost hear as it clicks and he gets it. Everything goes either white or black, you can't tell and you can't breathe. You try, and nothing gets through. It only takes a second and a half of no air and you feel yourself releasing, shuddering, and slumping against him. You can breathe again and suddenly Bro's not holding you up and you slump to the floor.

You realize he's still standing above you, and you can hear him breathing, just standing over you, hands at his sides and you won’t raise your head past his knees. As the high from your orgasm dissipates the only thing you can think is _wow holy shit he’s watched me jerk off_.

And now he knows. Or, you guess, he always knew. You can't bring yourself to look at him; you can't focus on anything other than the mess in your jeans and the shame that's burning through you. You hug your legs and stay frozen on the floor. You don’t want to move while he’s there, you don’t want to get up and risk looking him in the face. You’re not ready for that. So you sit, hugging your knees and trying to stop focusing on his soft huffs of air.

You finally feel his presence lift as he flash-steps out of the kitchen. Across the apartment the bathroom door clicks and you think yeah, you have to be just as sick as me. Or maybe he was just teaching you a lesson.

Maybe he’s teaching you what you already know. You’re not really cut out to be a Strider, you don’t think. You’ve let him down.

It takes what feels like forever to peel yourself off the floor and work your way back to your room, and you don't even bother changing from your soiled clothes or locking the door (it obviously wouldn't keep him out anyways) before you flop onto your bed. You shuffle into the comforter awkwardly and it doesn’t take long for everything to sink in, and you feel the uncomfortable heat and sting of tears. You try to keep your sobs quiet as you bring your pillow to your chest, but you don't think you do a very good job.

**Author's Note:**

> [jazz hands]


End file.
